


from a great and gruesome height

by electrumqueen



Category: Pitch Perfect (2012)
Genre: Coming Out, F/F, F/M, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electrumqueen/pseuds/electrumqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chloe doesn't <i>do</i> unrequited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from a great and gruesome height

**Author's Note:**

> brief mentions of disordered eating, casual sex, the general irreverence of the movie.

"I got into grad school," Chloe says. "In Iowa."

"Oh," Beca says. Her eyes are - very dark. "Oh. Okay."

 

When Chloe was fifteen Mary Brown dyed her hair black, joined a punk band, and started kissing girls. Mary sat in front of Chloe in English and they never spoke.

Chloe joined the choir because Mary told Ian, sitting next to her, that her band needed a singer. She spent two months feverishly dreaming about Mary’s mouth, doodling Mary’s bird tattoo in the corner of her math book.

Then Scott Westinghouse transferred into math and he was a lot easier to like. He took her to prom and she lost it in the back of his car and you know, some cliches are a good fucking time, okay?

It is not that Chloe isn't confident. It's just that -

Some parts of her life are nobody's business.

 

Beca is a whirlwind.

Beca is black nail polish and bird-sharp features and a quirky gorgeous voice and a smile that sweeps Chloe away. Beca is angry and closed off and mean to Jesse, alternately totally into him and treating him like everyone else.

Beca is David Guetta and Blackstreet and grudging Miley Cyrus; Beca is a secret smile and a wry joke and a mashup you'd never have thought of.

Chloe doesn't _do_ unrequited, she's not the kind of girl who says _it's not like that_ but it isn't. Chloe hasn't done unrequited since Mary Brown and she's not about to start now, but she likes Beca's smile and Beca's voice and you know what? That's okay. Chloe likes Beca because Beca is _great_ and there's really no line between crush and girlcrush, like Mindy Kaling says.

It’s cool. They have Nationals to win, you know? And Chloe is having _throat surgery_ , there are other things that can occupy her mind.

(Beca has tattoos.

Somehow they have migrated to the corners of Chloe's psych book.)

 

Aubrey says, "Chloe."

Chloe has a pen in her mouth, three weeks of psych notes to catch up on and Ryan's _wanna come over later_ on her phone. She takes the pen out of her mouth and sits up, cross-legged on her bed. "What's aca-up?"

"That's not funny," Aubrey says, but she's grinning a little, moving Chloe's books out of the way so she can curl up on Chloe's bed. She smells like gardenia shower gel and stress. "Are you okay?"

"Uh," Chloe says, "I have a midterm in two days? It's thirty percent?"

Aubrey's looking at her fingers, twined together against Chloe's pale blue bedspread. "Chloe," she says, careful like she never is, "you know you can trust me, right?"

Chloe blinks. Her hair is up in a bun and she hasn't slept properly in two nights and she really doesn't get Aubrey sometimes; they're best friends but Aubrey sometimes can be an entire universe of her own, with different physical laws. Aubrey-gravity, she's convinced, doesn't work like Newton's.

"Yeah," she says. There is blue pen on the ball of her thumb; she rubs at it absently. "Yeah, of course. Are _you_ okay?"

"Chloe," Aubrey says slowly, "is that Beca's tattoo on the corner of your notes?"

Chloe says, "I doodle, Aubrey."

Sometimes Aubrey can be eerily perceptive. Usually she does exactly the wrong thing with it. "She's into Jesse, you know. She's an ice queen but she's into him."

"I know," Chloe sighs. "Aubrey--"

"I just-" Aubrey takes a hitching breath. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

Chloe laughs, a little. "Oh, Aubrey. I know I’ve got big eyes but I wear big girl panties, okay? It's not a big deal." And then, because it's _Aubrey_ , and it's best to make sure, "promise you won't meddle--"

Aubrey makes matching huge eyes. "God, Chloe, who do you think I am?"

" _Promise,_ " Chloe says. She’s thinking, _is this why you hate Beca so much?_ But there are a thousand reasons Beca and Aubrey were destined to hate each other and this is the least of them.

"Fine," Aubrey sighs. Her shoulders slump. "No throwing me over for the new girl?"

"Well, technically I kind of already have." Chloe bites her lip. Beca is - better - than Aubrey was, as far as the Bellas are concerned. It’s not - for someone who's basically drowning in it, Aubrey isn't really good at stress.

"Shut up," Aubrey says, "not in _aca_. You know I love you best."

Chloe has to smile. Aubrey is - god, Aubrey is the weirdest kind of mess but Chloe kind of loves her. Not in the fleeting way that she likes Beca right now, but in this whole anchoring way that is like Aubrey just bulldozed into her life one day and put down roots, strangling her in the chest but it's good, it's the best thing ever. "Yeah," she says, "you know I love you best, too."

Aubrey says, "Good," and grins, bright and sharp. Her arms fit exactly right around Chloe's shoulders and she is very light in Chloe's lap. "Love you," she whispers.

"Always and forever," Chloe murmurs, pressing a kiss to Aubrey's hair. "Thanks, weirdo."

 

They win Nationals. Chloe and her new low voice kick ass and Beca gleams up there on stage, incandescent. They’re amazing: it's exactly what Chloe heard, that first night in the showers.

Beca kisses Jesse. The stage lights are bright on their hair and it's perfect, a perfect rom-com ending - and not one of the shitty ones either, not the ones where the girl is a bitch but also a doormat and the boy is an alpha-male douchebag fuckup. This is one of the ones you root for, the ones you don't mock.

Aubrey twines her pinkie through Chloe's; not obvious, just solid.

 _Thanks,_ Chloe doesn't say; she just leans against Aubrey's shoulder. It’s okay, you know? They _won._ It’s all okay.

It’s all _good._

Fat Amy catcalls really loudly, wolf-whistle bringing the auditorium to a standstill. "Uh," she says, everyone turning to look at her, "back to your regularly scheduled lives?"

Everyone, that is, except Beca and Jesse, wrapped up in each other at the centre of the world.

"It’s cute," Chloe murmurs. Her heart hurts a little bit, but you know what? That happens. That’s _life._

Aubrey slings an arm around her shoulder. "Yeah," she says. "It is."

 

"Yo," Jesse says, DVD case in hand, hair sticking up.

"Beca's not here," Chloe says. She's lying on her back, texting Mike from her Chem class and staving off a grad-school meltdown. She thinks maybe she should stop leaving her door open.

"I know," Jesse says. He is really kind of awkward, Chloe thinks, but in the nice way; in the nicest way. He’s good for Beca, who is all sharp edges; she needs some softness to her. "Beca said you're freaking out."

"What?"

"Beca says Aubrey's out of town and she's at her mom's but someone needs to make sure you don't freak out." His sleeves fall past his knuckles. He’s so young; sometimes she forgets he and Beca are freshmen.

"I’m not _Aubrey,"_ Chloe says, the back half of her mind running doomsday scenarios where she gets into no grad school and has to work at Starbucks for the rest of her life, "I’m not going to like, projectile vomit." (There is a text in her outbox, set for 7pm; _how was dinner?_ it means _remember to eat_ and also _I love you._ )

"Well," Jesse says, "here's the thing: you and I, we don't know each other that well. You don't have to tell me what's stressing you out; you don't have to do anything except sit here, breathe deeply, and mock this movie with me."

"You’re _weird,_ " Chloe says, with feeling, but. It’s not the worst idea in the universe. She sits up, shuffles over on her bed. "Fine, okay. What are we watching?"

He grins, this huge wide thing that eats his face. Chloe is very, very glad Beca has him. "Katherine Heigl needs a douchebag to pull the stick out of her ass."

"Oh, god," Chloe laughs. "Sit down, did you bring popcorn?"

It’s in his other hand, behind his back. He holds it up, triumphant.

She texts Beca, _your boyfriend's a dork._

Beca replies, _love you too._

It’s-

nice.

 

The Bellas study together for finals. Aubrey is looser than she used to be, hair down, makeup smudged; she laughs more, wears _we won_ lightly, like she doesn't need the armour of it anymore. Beca brings Jesse sometimes, but not that often; Cynthia-Rose and Denise shoot each other secret smiles and Lilly gets them kicked out of the library for swearing at Fat Amy's homework.

Late one night, Beca's roommate is out with her friends and Chloe is the last one still on her couch, out of laziness more than anything else; Chloe's feet rest against Beca's hip, black toes wriggling, and Beca hums the opening bars of _Titanium,_ voice heavy with sleep. It’s easy, too easy; it's like the first time Chloe heard her, heard that light soaring voice, met those piercing, piercing eyes.

Chloe can't hit the notes she used to but that's okay; she takes the melody, Beca the harmony.

There are other universes, Chloe thinks, remembering Intro to Physics, where Chloe would lean in and Beca would lean down and they would be kissing, right now.

 _I’m bulletproof,_ she sings, Beca soaring high above her, _nothing to lose_. It’s not true; there are a hundred things Chloe wants to keep.

Beca's eyes are so dark; Chloe never wanted this to happen. She runs her fingers through her hair though it distorts the curls, makes them greasy. They break off, look at each other.

"I’m glad you cornered me in the shower," Beca murmurs. There is a smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Even if it was super predatory."

Chloe doesn't flinch; she just kicks Beca's hip barely, gently. "XOXO," she says. "You know you love me."

The moment snaps. Beca makes a face. "That is the _worst show ever,_ " she says, and of course Chloe has to leap to Blair Waldorf's defence.

 

Cynthia-Rose says, "You know, if you ever need to talk about anything, I’m around."

"Thanks," Chloe says. She draws a flower on the edge of Cynthia’s math book.

What else can you say to that?

 

"I need to get over her," Chloe tells Aubrey. "She’s my friend." She fiddles with the settings of her treadmill; inclines are for suckers.

Aubrey is running a lot faster than Chloe. Her hair bounces impeccably, every strand in its place. "Well," she says, not even a little out of breath, "I hate to be crass, but have you tried... distracting yourself?"

"Are you talking about a one night stand?"

"I mean," Aubrey says, "you could also like, date someone. I’m sure Cynthia-Rose could set you up. Or there's that guy in our symphony elective who keeps staring at you."

"Ew," Chloe says, "not creepy Ross. He smells weird."

Aubrey catches her eye; they dissolve into laughter.

The handles of Chloe's treadmill dig into her stomach. "Ow," she says, grinning. "No offense, Aubrey, but I don't think I need anyone's help to hook up."             

Aubrey grins. "You sure? We could ask Stacie."

"Shut up," Chloe says.

"Let’s go out tonight," Aubrey says. "You and me."

 

But it's never just Aubrey and Chloe anymore; Fat Amy texts Chloe to study and Chloe has to tell her why she can't otherwise she'll never hear the end of it, so of course she's coming. With Fat Amy come Stacie and Lilly, and Cynthia-Rose, Ashley and Jessica aren't far behind.

Chloe's phone buzzes when they're all getting ready in Aubrey's room. "It’s Beca," she says, and Aubrey blinks twice, best friend code for _do I need to cut a bitch?_

The text says, _gettin rowdy w/o me? ;)_

Chloe shakes her head, miniscule motion but Aubrey will catch it. She layers on another coat of mascara, hand shaking; "she thinks we're getting rowdy."

Fat Amy laughs. "She’s so right! If we don't get kicked out of at least three clubs, it'll be a waste. Where is she, anyway?"

"Jesse's," says Lilly in that quiet, dangerous way of hers. "They’re going to see some old movie. Beca's been remixing soundtracks because it makes him twitch."

 _haha,_ Chloe texts back, _you know it! lilly brought her lighter, im kinda scared._

 _dnt die,_ Beca replies, _don't tell the rest of them but ur my fave._

 _< 3_ Chloe sends. _dw i won't rat u out 2 aubrey._

Aubrey says, "Chlo?"

Chloe shakes her head and puts her phone down. There is a bottle of vodka in the top drawer of Aubrey's dresser because there always is; she exercises best friend rights of the past three and a half years (it took them a semester to stop hating each other and cave to the reality that they were meant to be) and swigs a mouthful off the neck. "Let’s get this party started!"

 

Fat Amy leans in. "Everyone knows, you know."

Chloe is making prolonged eye contact with a cute guy at the bar. She’s pretty drunk. "What?"

"You like Beca!"

" _What?_ "

"It's okay," Fat Amy says. "We still love you. Personally I’m Team You, but Stacie is Team Jesse."

"Are you _serious?_ "

"And don't worry, Beca has less emotional intelligence than most crocs I’ve seen. There’s no way she knows." Fat Amy pauses. "That was pretty stereotypical, huh."

Chloe squints and swallows a mouthful of something pink. "Thanks, Amy."

Fat Amy pats her on the back. "You know we've got you covered."

The opening bars of _Titanium_ pulse through the club.

"I love this song," Chloe says. It comes out kind of slurry. She waves at the guy at the bar, who waves back. "I’m gonna go now, okay?" She drops her drink on the table and heads off.

"Okay," Fat Amy says. "Don't catch herpes!"

 

"The problem," Chloe tells - wait, what's his name? She doesn't know his name, that's gonna be awkward later - the guy from the bar, "the problem isn't that she's a girl, the problem is that she likes somebody else. That she's dating somebody else."

The guy says, "Really?" He has big eyes. They’re green.

Chloe considers her life. This is really, on the scale of embarrassing things, kind of up there, "I should probably go, I think."

She gets up, retrieves her dress from the chair by the door, her bra from the knob; she considers her underwear for a moment and then writes it off, lost cause. Her left shoe is under the bed, right on the dresser. "I’m impressed with us," she tells the guy.

"Me too," he says, blinking.

She wriggles into her dress. "It was nice to meet you," she says. "Um, bye."

 

The air is cool on her face. She stares up at the moon and then checks her phone: Aubrey, _I assume you're having fun; text me so I know you didn't die_ (Aubrey texts like she speaks: precise, perfect grammar), Fat Amy, _GET IT GRRRL_ , Beca, _oh god anything but the wrath of aubrey!!!._ It’s an old text, from before they went out.

Chloe rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. Her mouth tastes like men's mouthwash layered over vodka. "This sucks," she tells the stars.

They don't respond.

Her phone buzzes. _Hey,_ Beca's texted, _how's ripping up Barden’s good name?_

Chloe has no idea where she is. She sighs, sucks it up, hits dial. "Hey, Beca," she says, "I know you're probably kinda busy but do you think you could googlemap me a way home?"

"So the answer's _good_ , huh?" Beca's voice is warm, sweet. "Sorry, Jesse, it's Chloe. Where are you?"

"I don't know where Aubrey is," Chloe says, remembering Aubrey's hair and a guy's hand on her back, over her pink tank top. "I’m--"

"Street signs, babe," Beca says. There’s something in it Chloe can't read.

She squints up at the nearest intersection and reads off the names. "Thanks," she says, "I owe you one."

 

"Morning, sleepyhead." Beca's leaning in the doorway.

At least, Chloe thinks it's Beca. Nobody else she knows thinks all-black is acceptable on a sunny day.

She squints. Definitely Beca.

Then she says, "argh," because something has died in her mouth and it tastes awful. Someone else is also stabbing her through the eyes.

"Fun night?" Beca's voice is warm, amused. "I brought you orange juice. It’s like two, by the way, so don't complain; Aubrey wanted to get you up at eleven but I stopped her."

Chloe forces her body upright, blinking furiously. She takes Beca's glass and drains it, barely tasting the juice. "You’re my favourite," she says, head throbbing, eyes open by a supreme force of will. "Don’t tell Aubrey."

Beca sits down next to her. "Don’t worry," she says, "your secret's safe with me."

Chloe sighs and drops her head against Beca's shoulder. Beca's warm and she smells like aftershave - Jesse's, probably. "My head hurts."

"Oh, buddy," Beca says, and Chloe suspects she's smiling, "I know."

 

Beca and Jesse have a fight. They know because Beca comes to Aubrey's room for an impromptu study session - which, hello, never happens - and she's got a face like a thundercloud - not that that's unusual.

"Trouble in paradise?" Lilly’s chewing on the end of her pencil.

"Ugh," Beca says, rolling her eyes. She pitches her voice for an uncanny imitation of Jesse: "Beca, you just need to _open up_. I’m open, okay! I’m a warm fucking electric blanket."

"Oooh," Fat Amy says, "I’d totally buy one of those."

Aubrey looks at Chloe.

Chloe looks down at her paper. "That sucks," she says. "I’m sorry." She is fighting down the urge to find Jesse and rip his intestines out.

 

The fight resolves itself pretty quickly. Jesse is at their next movie night - Sixteen Candles, a classic - wearing a Star Wars t-shirt Beca was wearing yesterday. It was loose on her.

Chloe pulls him into the hallway on the pretense of getting ice. "Hey," she says, quietly, at the ice machine, "just so you know, if you fuck with Beca I’ll destroy you."

Jesse sighs. "Fat Amy beat you here," he says. "Her threat was funnier, too. Something about making me eat my own testicles."

Chloe raises an eyebrow.

"I promise," he says, hand over his heart. "That is - the last thing I’d ever want to do."

"Okay," she says. "I believe you." She does. That’s the thing, about Jesse: he's a puppy, and if anyone's going to be fucking anyone else up - realistically, it's not going to be him.

"I’m glad she has friends like you," he says, wholly sincere.

Chloe smiles. "I’m glad she has you." It's not a lie, even if it's not the whole truth.

 

Chloe gets into her first, second and third choice programs for her Psych masters, with enough funding to make them affordable. Her references are pretty great, if she does say so herself.

Aubrey gets a job offer from a Wall Street firm, her dream. There’s actually a poster of the firm on her wall, a blown up picture she took one Spring Break, right next to the framed picture of the Bellas with their trophy.

"The thing is," Aubrey says, sprawling out on Chloe's bed, her hair in Chloe's mouth. She’s kind of drunk, they both are; celebratory wine was in order. "The thing is, I don't think she wasn't into you."

"What?" Chloe spits out Aubrey's hair, tries again. "Aubrey, what?"

"I’m pretty sure she liked - likes - you, I guess. I mean, a little. Obviously she's dating Jesse, so that would have to be kind of weird, but before that - I mean, you did corner her in a shower stall and harass her into auditioning, so she'd have to be at least a little interested." It's all a rush, air swooshing out of Aubrey's mouth.

"Aubrey--"

"It doesn't matter now, I guess." Aubrey waves a hand through the air, languid. "But I may have - warned her off, earlier."

" _What._ " Chloe sits up. "Aubrey, _what the fuck?_ "

Aubrey shakes her head, sitting up too. "I just - you're so sweet, Chloe. And you have a type and it's _her_ and I just. I didn't want you to get hurt. So I just - I may have mentioned that she should be careful with what she said to you. There may have been some intimations of potential bodily harm."

"You’re fucking with me." Chloe says it flat, because it's a statement, it's the truth.

Aubrey has the decency to look sheepish. "I’m sorry!" she says. "I mean, obviously _now_ I know she's okay, but how was I supposed to know then?"

"I cannot," Chloe says, visualising a still lake, forcing her breaths to remain steady. "I actually - okay, I’m going to go outside and when I get back you need to _not be here,_ okay? Okay."

She is not wearing shoes but she does not care. She slams the door behind her and walks up and down the hallway. _Warned her off_ \- what the fuck does that even _mean?_

 

"Hey, Chloe," Beca says, leaning in her doorway, hip against the doorframe. Her hair's up in a ponytail, headphones pushed down around her neck. "What’s up? Wait, are you _drunk_?"

Chloe waves a hand. "Not really, kind of, a little. Can I talk to you? Is Kimmy home?"

"She’s at a student meeting," Beca says, "but when she gets back we're going for Mexican, I think. Come in, though; she'll be awhile."

Beca's bed is super soft. Chloe wraps her arms around her knees, breathing in.

"So," Beca says, sitting down next to Chloe, "is everything okay?"

"My best friend," Chloe grits out, "is an insane control freak."

"Breaking news at six," Beca says. Her voice is gentle, careful. "You kind of signed up for that one, Chloe."

"Argh," Chloe says. "If I like, kill her, how soon do you think I’d get out?"

"Depends," Beca says, straight-faced, "whose prison bitch are you willing to be?"

Chloe blinks. Giggles, just a little; before she knows it a full-barrelled laugh is charging out of her throat and she's shaking with it, falling into Beca's shoulder.

"It wasn't that funny," Beca says, petting Chloe's hair awkwardly, "but, uh, thanks."

Chloe pulls herself together, drags her hand across her face, sits up. "Okay," she says. "So, um, Aubrey says she-- said something to you, early on?"

Beca makes a face. "She said a lot of things, Chloe. It’s history, now; water, bridges, all that jazz. No trolls though, unless you count Bumper, and he's gone."

Chloe waits.

"Okay, she might have said something about - she might have said that if I fucked with you in any way I’d regret ever being born." Beca's mouth twists. "I didn't, like, _believe her_. I mean, I did. She’s fucking scary when she wants to be." She pauses. "There might have been a demonstration on one of those CPR dolls."

" _Christ,_ " Chloe sighs. She’s bright red, she thinks, she's probably visible from outer space. In a second she's going to shrivel up and die from mortification. "I’m really sorry, Beca."

Beca shrugs. Her voice is careful, measured. Each syllable drops into the air like a weight. "The thing is - the thing is, Chloe, she was probably right. I was - I was a mess at the start of the year, I was self-destructive and closed-off and Jesse was right to call me on it. Would you have?"

Chloe's heart is beating too fast. It’s too much, all of it; there's a giant brick on her chest and it's getting harder and harder to breathe. "Beca," she blurts out. "I got into grad school. In Iowa."

"Oh." Beca's eyes widen. "Oh. Okay."

"I didn't-- I didn't think--"

"No," Beca says. "No, I--" she shakes her head. "I’m with Jesse, anyway. It’s just- I thought you'd be closer."

"Me too." Chloe swallows.

Beca's mouth is red from where she's been biting it. "What does Aubrey think?"

"She’ll be in New York." When Chloe says it out loud it sounds like a death knell, this was your life. "I’m not bulletproof, Beca."

Beca runs a hand through her hair, ponytail falling out. "Shit, Chloe. Neither am I."

Chloe digs her nails into her knees. "So if I’d - " She twists her face to Beca's.

"Don't," Beca says, hand on her wrist. "Chloe, don't." The killer is how kind it is, her voice. She is leaning towards Chloe, her hair falling like a curtain around them.

If Chloe leans in just a little more, Beca will meet her.

Chloe forces her eyes shut, pulls herself back. "I’m sorry."

"You should talk to Aubrey," Beca says. "I mean, I think. You should." Her shirt is a plaid button-down today, yellow like corn and several sizes too big. It’s definitely not hers.

 

"Why did you go after Beca?"

Aubrey is in her room, cross-legged on her yoga mat, palms on her knees. She opens her eyes, breathes in. "I didn't trust her."

"Bullshit," Chloe snaps, pulling the door shut behind her. "Aubrey--"

"I didn't trust her with you."

Chloe feels like a hunter. She drops to her knees in front of Aubrey. "Yeah?"

Aubrey's teeth close on her lower lip. "I didn't want her to hurt you."

It’s closer. They haven't been friends this long for Chloe to not know Aubrey's tells. She waits.

Aubrey closes her eyes. "I didn't want- I didn't want you to be with her."

It hits Chloe like a truck. "Aubrey?"

"I - it doesn't make _sense,_ " Aubrey whispers. She can't meet Chloe's eyes. "You’re my best friend."

"No," Chloe says, stomach twisting like a little sailboat on the open sea. "No, _Beca_ is my best friend. You’re--"

Aubrey's eyes fly open, like Chloe's hit her. "Chloe--"

"You’re something else," Chloe realizes, taking a deep, scorching breath. When she leans in Aubrey is already there to meet her.

**Author's Note:**

> title / inspiration from dar williams' _iowa._


End file.
